


Suits

by Littlebluejay_hidingpeanuts



Series: Charlie [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21801127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlebluejay_hidingpeanuts/pseuds/Littlebluejay_hidingpeanuts
Summary: What would a hitman wear? Whatever he wants.
Series: Charlie [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570552
Kudos: 1





	Suits

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed

Charles was a precise man. He rose from his bed promptly at five-thirty, exercised, showered, and began to dress. He always wore a suit. There were all kinds of suits. Plain black suits for bestowing sympathy on a grieving widow. Finely tailored suits for practicing law. Crappy suits for practicing good law. Ill-fitting suits for people who are trying to appear to be someone else or haven’t the money to look like anyone else. Beautiful suits that CEO’s wear like second skins. Suits worn by grooms and prom dates of which the former should hopefully look better in than the latter. Weird suits that only ever appear on runways and are never worn by real people. Plaid suits for people without any sense of fashion, or substitute teachers. Male suits. Female suits. Suits for bodies that no longer have the exuberance to put on anything ever again, let alone a suit. 

Charles wore a fine, black suit with a grey and black striped tie and a yellow handkerchief in the pocket. It was a gabardine suit made of mid-weight, worsted wool. He wore it to every occasion. It lent a certain sophistication to the events in which he was primarily causing bodies to only ever need one more suit. The silk handkerchief was exchanged for a dark blue or black one if he found it pertinent to bestow his condolences on the mourners who survived his trips to their fair cities. 

He loved his yellow handkerchief. He picked it out especially. It wasn’t gold. Too pretentious. Or warm like honey or the sun. It wasn’t pale or sickly. It was flat yellow, like ballgame hotdog mustard or fuzz-ball bumblebees. He spent a long time deciding on that color. White was too sharp, too calculating. Black was too metaphorical, the devil all in black. And matching the handkerchief to the grey tie was insipid. Green was too feline. Blue matched his eyes. Again, matching was automatically disallowed, except when the all black was trying to imitate sympathy. Brown might have worked, but seemed to not match enough, ironically. Red was laughable. He didn’t want to advertise his profession. Purple was too Joker-like, and simply did not go with his blonde hair. His yellow worked just fine. It enhanced his eyes, his tailor had said, it balanced the grey and black, and it made a statement, so that he wouldn’t have to.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism welcome, but politeness is a must.


End file.
